


Falling Down

by Dancingqueen17



Series: Tales of Suicidal Superheroes [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Depressed Peter, Eating Disorders, F/M, Irondad, Peter Needs a Hug, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, im sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2020-10-12 22:45:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20572166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancingqueen17/pseuds/Dancingqueen17
Summary: Kinda Triggering so beware





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda Triggering so beware

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This definitely doesn't correspond to the actual Avengers or Spiderman timelines. And all the Avengers live in the compound and they all like each other because I said so

Peter didn't know why he was still alive. He had fooled everyone into thinking that he had been fixed. He even believed it too for a while. He hadn't had these thoughts in weeks. But every time he thought he was healed it all came crashing down again. He couldn't save lives. He couldn't complete his training with Mr. Stark. Hell, he couldn't even do the math that was on the board. It was graphing or something. And due to his frequent hobby of zoning out during class, he didn't even know where to start. He had just been proving himself more worthless as time went on. Why did MJ and Ned even talk to him. He was clearly just dragging them-

"Mr. Parker if you aren't going to pay attention in my class at least make it less noticeable!"

Peter muttered his apologies and tried to make sense of the gibberish on the board. Even if he had been trying he was too stupid to understand it. He glanced at the clock. 8:57. He only had 3 more minutes to pretend he knew what he was doing.

When the bell rang he quickly packed up his stuff and scurried to the gym. He had been late too many times and was on the verge of a detention due to the fact that the hallway was always crowded.

P.E was worse. Not only did he have to run a mile (which was basically torture, even for superheroes), he also had to change in the locker room. It didnt use to bother him last year. Back then everyone was carrying some baby fat. But this year everyone seemed to have muscles and abs. It didn't help that Peter's locker was near the basketball team's. He couldn't help but feel a little self conscious. I mean he was supposed to be a superhero for fuck's sake. 'This is what started it last time' The logical side of his brain piped in. He ignored it. How was he supposed to-

"Parker pick up the pace!"

Right, he had almost forgotten that he was supposed to be running. And after a quick survey of the track he made the shocking realization that he was the last one. How was he supposed to be Spiderman if he couldn't even run a fucking mile. 

After his last lap he was panting like crazy. Some of the other kids gave him odd looks. He needed to be stronger if he was gonna save lives. He needed to be better. With that in mind he made his way to the locker room.

The moment Peter got into the locker room an exhausted looking Ned came up to him.

"Peter I'm gonna die." He said dramatically "Why do they torture us like that."

Peter hummed a light response before rummaging around in his locker. He didn't want to change around Ned. He sighed inwardly. Just last week he had been doing fine. Of course it was his own fault for thinking he could ever be fixed. He was pathetic. Why did he ever believe-

"Peter are you even listening to me?" 

Peter looked over at Ned's expectant face. "Uh, yeah sorry."

Ned rambled on as he changed. Peter noticed how he didn't even care. He wished he could be like that.

"Are you gonna stay in that sweaty gym outfit forever." Ned asked while grabbing his backpack. "You're gonna be late."

"I'm coming, you go ahead." Peter responded. After waiting till Ned left and a quick look around Peter deemed it empty enough to change. He threw on his clothes and ran to Spanish. As predicted he was late.

Peter knew he should be paying attention. His Spanish grade was already low enough. But he couldn't focus. Maybe if he had done his homework it wouldn't sound like utter nonsense. But alas, he didn't.

The lunch options all looked so incredibly delicious. It was the one time a month the cafeteria actually served something edible. But Peter remembered what Mr. Stark had been saying about a "superhero diet". Peter knew he wouldn't mind losing a few pounds. After all the slimmer you are the faster you are. He froze in his spot for a moment. Last time he had these thoughts he ended up in the emergency room. 'That's because he had eaten nothing' He told himself. As long as he ate something he would be fine. Besides losing a few pounds never hurt anybody. The logical side of his brain tried to reason that he was still recovering and shouldn't go down this path again. Ignoring is thoughts Peter opted for the salad.

"Peter, I love you man, but what the actual fuck" Ned gawked at Peter's plate when he sat down. "It's pizza day and you chose salad."

Even MJ looked up from her book. Her eyes widened significantly. "If I wasn't a vegetarian, even I would have gotten that glorious pizza."

Peter shrugged nonchalantly. It's not like he could tell his friends the reason he didn't get the pizza. They would worry, and they didn't deserve that.

MJ rolled her eyes. Ned shrugged it off. It was better like this. He could suffer on his own. Even if he wasn't supposed to be suffering anymore. No matter how far he got, he still found comfort in his horrible habits.

It had almost gotten him killed. But yet the thought of not eating still brought tingles to his skin. He was supposed to be getting better. But yet he still craved the dull hunger pains. He still liked the feeling of emptiness. He still wanted to feel like he was in control of something. He was crazy. Normal kids didn't do this. He had always been a freak. Why did he ever think-

"Peter," MJ said, effectively bringing him from his thoughts.

"Lunch is over, we're gonna be late." Peter scanned the cafeteria and saw they were one of the last people there. He quickly disposed of his tray and went to class.

English and Social Studies flew by. Probably because he wasnt paying attention. But alas, it was finally time to go home. Peter collected his things and ran out of the building. Getting caught in the end of the day foot traffic was horrible. Peter usually took the subway, but he needed the exercise. His apartment building was only a 25 minute walk. 'You're starting again' the logical side if his brain chimed. But he ignored it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' represents the logical side of Peter's brain  
... represents a flashback or time skip  


When Peter finally arrived at home (the walk seemed longer than it did last time, he needed more exercise) he flopped down on the couch. May wouldn't be home for at least a few more hours. That is if she hadn't picked up the night shift. Which she had been doing a lot these days. 

'Probably to pay for his hospital bills' 

Even with May's constant reassurance that she would take care of it, Peter knew she didn't have that kind of money. 

If he had just died then this wouldn't have happened 

That thought alone made him want to slit his wrists. Out of all the people he could have burdened why did it have to be May? She had done so much for him and had gotten nothing but trouble in return.

He felt useless. A small part of him craved his blade. A larger part of him knew it was a bad idea. Due to May's "weekly checkups" to insure he was eating properly and not cutting anymore. Peter flopped on the couch. He knew cutting was bad, but what else was he supposed to do? When everything became too much cutting made it seem bearable. But without it things just seemed to pile up inside his head, making a bigger mess of his already scattered feelings.

With a sigh he picked up the remote and clicked through channels until he found something to use as background noise so he didn't feel so alone as he dozed off.

...

"Peter, I'm home." May yelled, effectively waking Peter. He was a light sleeper. 

"I'm right here." He responded while sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"Oh, I didn't mean to wake you. How long have you been asleep. You know what Dr. Harris said about maintaining a good sleep schedule."

Peter sighed. May always managed to bring Dr. Harris into things. Peter looked at the time on his phone. 10:37. He had been asleep for 6 hours.

" I haven't been out too long." Peter lied.

"Good, I expect you have already eaten. I'm off to take a shower." May said exhausted. Peter noticed the way her shoulders slumped when she walked.

*He had done this. If he hadn't been such an idiot and gotten caught everything would be fine*

...

Peter had just gotten back from his weekly training with Mr. Stark. He had fainted in the middle of his boxing training. The logical side of his brain knew it was because he hadn't eaten in 3 days. But the larger, louder part told him it was because he was weak. He had to do better.

He stormed into the apartment. Angry with himself for being so stupid. Mr. Stark looked so worried. He didnt deserve it. May wouldn't be home for hours. He had time.

Peter had a routine when life got to be too much. He ate until he felt full then puked until he was empty again. Then when he was already numb from purging he added a few cuts to the collection on his arms. It was full proof. May didn't get off work until 6. And it was November, so long sleeves were pretty much a necessity

Peter searched through the cabinet before choosing a box of cookies and some ice cream. He sat on the bathroom floor to binge, it made things faster since his blades were already in there. After eating everything(and checking his phone 20 billion times to insure he wasn't taking too long and nothing had digested yet) He knelt over the toilet and pushed his fingers as far down his throat as he could. Before long he felt his stomach clench and everything spill out of him. It was addicting.

With the slight haze he had over him he reached for his blades. They were old ones May had gotten him as a gag gift when he turned thirteen, saying he was "becoming a man". If only she saw him now. Peter turned the blade in his hand before dragging it across his forearm. It felt so good to let everything go. So he did. Peter closed his eyes and raked the blade down his arm with a slight hiss. Over and over again. He felt so much better. Not good, but better.

When he opened his eyes he had a mess waiting for him. He had cut a little too deep and got blood on the floor. With a sigh he tried to push himself off the floor. After all he had a mess to clean up. But he couldn't. His body wouldn't work like he wanted it to. He pulled a towel down off the rack above him and tried to stop the bleeding. But his arm kept spewing blood. In a sense it was kind of pretty. It was like a waterfall. But he knew (prettiness aside) May was gonna flip if she saw the bathroom like this. Blood all over the floor with a battered Peter in the corner. He hadn't even flushed away his earlier purge. He had to clean up fast or-

"Peter! Mr. Stark called and told me you fainted. Where are you?"

Shit. She sounded close. How was he supposed to hide. His vision was too blurry to even see much and the dark spots weren't helping either.

"Peter?" May said peeking into his room.

Fuck. She was getting closer. He had nowhere to run.

"Peter are you-" May sucked in a breath when she opened the bathroom door, "Oh my God, Peter!"

Peter tried to assure her that he was fine but the black spots began to take over his vision. He blacked out leaving May sobbing in a pool of his own blood.

...

When Peter woke up he was in a hospital being fused over and being forced to take so many different kinds of medicine he almost puked. He wished he would have died when he saw May's face. Or when he heard the crack in her voice when she said "Why Peter? You could have died?"

...

"Peter!" May yelled, pulling him from his thoughts.

Peter jumped a little before meeting May's tired eyes.

"Sorry I didn't mean to scare you. It's just that I'd called your names a few times and you didn't answer and you know what Dr. Harris says about maladaptive daydreaming."

Peter flopped back down on the couch before muttering "Right, of course Dr. Harris said that."

May ignored his comment. "Are you sleeping on the couch?"

Peter doubted he would be sleeping at all but muttered a quick "Yeah" and grabbed a pillow.

"Goodnight Peter."

"Goodnight."


	3. Chapter 3

Peter had gotten approximately 17 minutes of sleep before he had to get up again. But it didn't matter. No amount of sleep could fix how tired he was. The bags under his eyes were permanent now. With a loud groan he threw himself off the couch and went to his room to get changed. 

He tried not to look at himself as he threw on a hoodie. Seeing the weight he had gained in the past few weeks made him sick.  
He had been so close to his goal weight. He had even started to see hints of his cheekbones. But now it was all replaced with fat. It was disgusting.

"Peter, come get your breakfast!" May yelled from the kitchen.

Though the thought of eating was repulsive he made his way to the kitchen anyway. May would have him on bedrest the moment she saw the faintest sign of him not eating. Peter pushed his food around his plate until he saw May give him a pointed look.

"I'm not leaving until you finish."

Peter stuffed the eggs in his mouth and forced himself to chew as he tried not to think about how many calories he was consuming.

...

Peters legs were sore before he even got to school. The walk there was just as bad as the walk home. 'You could have just taken the subway like everyone else' he thought. But no. Everyone else wasn't a superhero. Everyone else didn't need to be perfect. Everyone else didn't-

The sound of his phone brought him back to the present. Mr. Stark was calling him.

"Hey kid, just wanted to know if you were still coming to training today, you didn't respond to my text."

Peter glanced at his messages, sure enough there were 3 unread messages from Mr. Stark.

"Yeah, I'll be there." He replied.

"Good." There was a light pause. "I just wanted to check on you, since the little scare we had a few weeks back." Mr. Stark said awkwardly.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Peter said dismissively. And with a few more reassurances and goodbyes the call was over. He was always worrying people.

...

"Peter are you ok?"

Peter blinked hard before looking up from his lunch. Why would she ask that. He had been acting perfectly normal. He had even answered a question in class today. He didn't get it right, but he answered nonetheless. He had been-

"Peter."

Peter looked at MJ's expectant face. Right, she had asked him a question. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why?" If he was giving something away he needed to fix it.

"You just seem a little out of it. And you haven't eaten any of your lunch." MJ said looking Peter in the eyes. He hated how she could always tell if he was lying.

"No, I'm good." Peter said a bit too forcefully causing MJ's eyes to widen.

"Ok." She said skeptically before turning back to her own lunch, which was almost gone. He better eat something.

...

His relationship with Mr. Stark wasn't going to well either. Ever since Peter had passed out Tony treated him like he was fragile. He hated it. He always asked if he was ok or if he needed something to eat. Peter just wanted to go back to when nobody knew about his little habits.

"Hey kid, I'm gonna go grab dinner, did you want some?" Tony said while putting his equipment away.

Peter wanted to say no. But since the incident, May always called Tony to make sure he had eaten something while he was there. Damn that woman. Always checking up on him. 

"Uh yeah, what were you thinking for dinner?" Peter responded shakily, hoping whatever it was didn't have too many calories. He didn't much care for the fat that had started reappearing on his body

"I was thinking pizza. Dino's is right down the street." Tony said grabbing his keys.

"Sure." Peter said as Tony walked out the door. That was just great. One slice of Dino's Pizza was 350 calories alone. And he knew he would probably need to eat 2 to keep Mr. Stark off his back. Not to mention the half of a burger he had for lunch. Or the eggs he had eaten for breakfast. He was gonna get fat. He had worked so hard to be perfect. 

*You always ruin everything don't you?*

Peter felt his feet slip from under him as he fell to the floor. His breathing picked up and his eyes glazed over. He needed to get up. Tony could be back any minute.

*We wouldn't want Tony to find us like this again would we?*

Peter didn't know he was crying until he felt the tears dripping off his face. He was a mess. But he had to pull it together. He didn't want to go back to therapy. But that's exactly what would happen if Tony saw him like this.

He knew the only way to calm down was to hurt himself. But with May's constant checkups there wasn't many ways to do that. Peter pulled up his sleeve and scraped his nails over his arm. Not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to leave red marks all over his arm. Peter hoped Tony wouldn't come back for a while. Because if he asked if Peter was ok, the answer would be yes. He felt a lot better.


	4. Chapter 4

School went about as well as he had hoped. He failed a Spanish test, forgot his math homework, and fell flat on his face during gym. So all in all another great day. Though that wasn't even the worst of his day. Once a week May made it her top priority to ensure Peter had been eating properly and not harming himself. It just happened to be today. The main problem with this is that both of those statements were untrue. Peter hadn't eaten anything all week aside from the small breakfasts May made him each day. And since his little incident at Stark Tower there were still red marks on his forearms. He was screwed. 

He could try to cover it with makeup. But the thought of ransacking May's room for concealer sounded like more trouble than it was worth. He thought about just not showing up, but May would have all the police in New York looking for him if he wasn't there. Though that sounded slightly better than therapy. Peter didn't like the idea of someone else knowing about his habits. He didn't even want May to know, yet he was expected to tell some lady with a notepad his deepest secrets? Peter didn't like that one bit. Not to mention that his therapist was the most compassionate person in the world. She always tried to treat him like her own child. It made Peter feel wanted. But that feeling always faded. It was like a plane crash but with his emotions. He couldn't let himself get too happy because then he would crash when he realized he was worthless again. 

He felt a light buzzing from his pocket. He checked the caller ID to see May was calling him. He glanced at the time. Crap, he was late. He answered the call.

"Peter where are you?" May sounded worried. He was only a few minutes late. All he ever did was worry people.

"I'm on my way home." He responded dryly.

He heard May shuffle some things around. "According to the subway schedule, the one you should be on stopped 10 minutes ago."

Of course she had that damn schedule. "I'm walking."

May gasped lightly. "Peter, that's a thirty minute walk. And its cold out."

"I could use the exercise." Peter shrugged.

"Peter, you are all skin and bone. You know what Dr. Harris says about over exercising. It can be crucial too your-"

"I'm fine. I'll be home in ten minutes." Peter said a bit too forcefully and ended the call. But hey, these walks were supposed help him relax and he couldn't do that with May breathing down his neck.

...

When Peter walked through the door first thing he noticed was the lack of lectures he was receiving. Where was May with his scolding?

"May!" Peter yelled curiously.

"In here." She yelled back softly.

This was odd.

Peter follow the sound of her voice to her room. There he found May sitting on the edge of her bed with a stack of pamphlets in her hands. "Strip." May said jokingly. "Let's get this checkup over with." She said softly.

Peter was beyond dumbfounded. He had interrupted her and hung up on her. Where was is scolding? His punishment. Hell, even a stern talking to.

"I'm not in trouble." Peter asked cautiously.

May shook her head. "Dr. Harris says sometimes teens lash out because they want to be punished. She said I should try a different approach."

Of course she did.

'Well she's not wrong, you did this to try and get in trouble'

*God you're pathetic. You can't even get in trouble correctly*

"Come on Peter take your clothes off." May urged.

Peter sighed before reaching for his shirt. "You have got to find a better way to phrase that."

...

"114 pounds." May whispered as Peter stood on the scale. His checkup was going smoothly due to the fact that the red marks on his arms had blended in with the old scars. But Peter knew May wouldn't be happy with his weight.

"Peter." May whispered.

Peter closed his eyes. He hated how sad she sounded.

"This is less than last time. What happened?"

Peter opened his eyes and put on the best nonchalant look he could. "Nothing happened. People lose weight. Its normal."

May sighed. It wasn't her normal sigh. This one carried more sadness than she could have ever put into words. "Peter in the last few months you've lost more than 30 pounds. This isn't normal for someone so young to lose this much weight. Dr. Harris says-"

"I don't care what Dr. Harris says! So what if I dropped a few pounds. It doesn't matter!" Peter yelled while grabbing his shirt and going to his room.

Once he was safely confined in his room he collapsed on the bed. Why did he yell at May?

*Way to go Peter, you yelled at your aunt for caring about you. Woohoo, I bet you feel great. What a pathetic loser*

'I hate to say it but he's right'

Peter sobbed into his pillow. Why did he do that. May did nothing but care for him. He was just a burden. He was worthless.

He would do anything to feel the blade against his skin. Or bile tearing at his throat. He needed to release all the anger inside of him. He knew it was unhealthy, but without it he was reduced to what he was now. A sobbing child. It was pathetic. His emotions had nowhere to go. They clawed at his insides. 

He wondered why May didn't come check on him. Dr. Harris had probably told her some bullshit along the lines of "Teens need their time to heal". Honestly Peter could really go for one of May's warm hugs. But he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve her.


	5. Chapter 5

Peter wasn't doing great. Well he had never been great, but now it was bad. He couldn't eat even if he wanted to. His stomach had gone back into purge mode. Everything he consumed came right back up. And constant throwing up turned out to be pretty hard to hide from May. 

Fooling Tony was equally as difficult. Tony, though a little dense, could see he was losing weight again from under the tight spandex of his suit. Tony always asked if he was hungry and gave him an odd look when he said no. And his wife Pepper had to be a spy or something. She was always watching him with a odd look in her eye and asking him questions that would land him in the hospital if he answered them correctly. So he didn't.

Ned and MJ seemed to be catching on too. Whenever Peter skipped lunch they would share a look then quickly get back to what they were doing. Like they knew what he was doing but didn't want to tell him. Peter wanted to tell them that he didn't want secrets in this friendship, but how much of a hypocrite would that make him. His friends didn't even know he had been to the hospital at all. He was the biggest liar out of them all. 

'I told you it was getting bad again. I told you to get help while you could. But you didn't listen to me'

Peter was currently a in Spanish, trying to make sense of the gibberish on the board. He didn't study. Actually he hadn't studied in weeks. He barely knew what lesson they were on. 

A paper with a big red D was placed on his desk. He wanted to be surprised. He wanted to be disappointed. But he knew it was what he deserved. Even if he had tried harder he couldn't do much better. He was pathetic.

...

Peter had to stop walking home. He was too weak, and passing out in the middle of Main St. wasn't a good look. So he went back to taking the subway. It made May happy.

When he got home he found a note on the TV. May was working overtime again. Peter had the place to himself. He didn't know if that was good or bad.

Peter flopped down on the couch. He needed a distraction, so he flipped through the channels before finding a suitable cartoon to watch. Tom and Jerry. He and Ben used to watch Tom and Jerry. The used to run around the apartment with whiskers painted on their faces. Of course that was before Peter had gone and got him killed. He turned off the TV and decided to take a nap instead.

...

Peter screamed and sat upright. His dreams had been plagued with blood. Both Ben's and his own. When it was his blood it was more of a dream than a nightmare. Carved lines on his skin. It was nice. Then everything changed. It was Ben's blood that was everywhere. Pouring from the bullet hole in his chest. Running out of the gutters. Coming down the streets. It was everywhere. It was drowning him. 

Peter got up from the couch with shaking legs. He didn't like to think about Ben. Mainly because his death had been Peter's fault. For fucks sake, he was supposed to be Spiderman, and he couldn't even stop a fucking bullet. He was pathetic. 

*That's what I've been trying to tell you*

Peter was still shaking when he got to the bathroom. He was very sweaty after his nightmare and was in desperate need of a shower. He couldn't stand to look at himself in the mirror as he undressed. He didn't want to see how fat he had gotten. It was gross. 114 pounds, if he remembered correctly. May didn't allow him to use the scale (Probably due to Dr. Harris's orders). God, what he wouldn't give to feel the relief the blade gave him. But he was painfully aware that May had stashed away anything that was sharp enough to do damage. Knifes and scissors were locked up in a cupboard. Peter couldn't find so much as a safety pin. So he let his thoughts tear up his insides instead. 

Peter turned the water as hot as it would go. It burned when he got in, so much to the point that he hissed when it hit his skin, but he didn't care. It felt nice. His skin had turned an ugly shade of pink when he began to scrub himself with his sponge. It made him feel better, not good but better. Peter sighed as the water began to get cold and stepped out of the shower.He gave into his urges and looked into the mirror. His once slim physic had turned into fat. He pinched at his stomach and cheeks. It was everywhere. He hated it. Peter turned away and wrapped a towel around himself. 

May wouldn't be home for a few more hours. Which left Peter with the responsibility to feed himself. Peter knew he had to eat something soon, since he hadn't eaten in three days.

*Come on, three days isn't that long. You'll be fine.*

Peter sighed, realizing the voice in his head was right. He had gone over a week without eating. Three days was nothing. He'd be fine. Peter threw on some pajamas and flopped down on his bed.

Tomorrow was his next training session with Mr. Stark. Peter was in no way ready to do fighting training. Push ups were becoming to hard to manage. What was he going to do? Deciding that was a question for tomorrow, Peter curled up his his blankets and tried to go back to sleep, hoping this time not to be woken up by nightmares. 


	6. Chapter 6

Peter felt horrible. He was now failing Math and Spanish and report cards were going out in less than a week. To make matters worse, he had lied to May for months about his grades. For all she knew the lowest grade he had was a B-. He was screwed. May was gonna flip when she-

"Peter, would you mind staying after class?"

Peter looked up and saw Ms. Johnson staring at him expectantly. "Uh, yeah."

Shit. He prayed she wouldn't call May about his horrible grades. May already had so much going on she didn't need to be worrying about his grades.

...

When the bell rang Peter collected his things and walked up to her desk. "What did you want to talk about Ms. Johnson." Peter asked, barely able to keep his voice from shaking.

"Peter, your grades in this class have been declining for weeks now. You don't turn in your homework. You get low grades on classwork. And you daydream during tests. I've talked to other teachers and they all say you've been exhibiting the same behaviors in their classes. Since the beginning of the year your GPA has dropped from a 4.00 to a 1.70. With your grades like this I highly doubt you'll be able to move up grades next year. Unless you plan on retaking this year, I suggest you start studying." She said bluntly.

"What do you mean? I'm only failing two classes." Peter knew his grades were bad, but they couldn't hold him back unless he was failing 3 or more classes.

Ms. Johnson sighed and clicked a few things on her computer before pulling up Peter's grades. "You were already failing Math and Spanish, but the F you received on the test in my class last week pushed your grade down. Your failing my class too."

Peter stared at the screen in shock. How did he let this happen? 

*Maybe if you weren't so fucking dumb you might have passed*

"I am afraid I will also have to notify your guardian of this situation as well." Ms. Johnson said.

Peter felt like he was being crushed. May would be disappointed. What would Tony think if he knew his prodigy was failing all his classes. He wanted to scream and cry and cut until he felt empty again. Instead he said "Oh, ok" and walked out of the classroom before his tears began to fall.

Peter knew he should be going to lunch. But failures didn't deserve to eat. So he ran. Down the hall and out the door. He didn't know where he was going but he ran. Fast. 

...

Peter didn't mean to run that far. But his enhanced speed must have brought him all the way to the other side of town. Great to know he could only use it when he was running blindly across the city.

He ended up at a park. He didn't know where he was. But for some reason that was comforting for him.

After catching his breath (running across town was exhausting, even for superheroes) Peter made his way to the swings. The park was empty, probably because it was 30 degrees, but he enjoyed the silence.

The park reminded him of the days May and Ben would take him to their local playground. May would always push him on the swings and Ben would chase him around a bit. But where were they now? May was working overtime to pay for Peter's hospital bills, Ben was dead, and he was sitting on the swings alone.

Peter glanced at his phone. 2:47. He had to be home in less than an hour and due to the fact that he was dead tired, running was out of the question. His running had burned off more calories than he had eaten all week. His stomach felt like it was gonna tear in half. But he liked that feeling. It was the feeling of control.

Blindly running across New York did have its disadvantages. One being that Peter had no idea where he was or how to get home. But it was New York. There was always a subway somewhere.  
Peter began walking aimlessly, looking for signs.

...

After about an hour of searching Peter had finally found a subway to take him near his apartments. Peter plopped down in one of the few available seats and weighed his options. He could go home to May, who knew about his bad grades. Or he could run off and join the circus. One sounded a lot more appealing than the other.

"Penis Parker, fancy seeing you here." Flash said while squeezing into the space next to him.

Why of all places did Flash Thompson have to be on his train. Did God hate him?

"Hey Penis, I was talking to you. Don't you know it's not nice to ignore people."

"Please leave me alone." Peter said calmly. It was best to make it seem like he didn't care.

"Oh, is the mighty Penis Parker to good to talk to me? Well I surely don't think he is. You're worthless Parker. I heard you were failing some classes too. How does it feel to know that I'm doing better in school than you? I mean I knew you were dumb but not that fucking dumb. You must be really fucking stupid to fail Spanish. Parker you really are a dumbass." Flash taunted before getting up and finding a new seat, leaving Peter to think about what he had said.

Flash had better grades than him. How did he let this get so bad?

'I told you this was getting out of hand'

Peter heard his stop announced and made his way off the train. He glanced at his phone. He was supposed to be home thirty minutes ago and had 6 new messages from May. He decided not to open them, she was gonna kill him anyway.


	7. Chapter 7

"Peter where have you been? I texted you a million times." May said frantically when he walked through the door, checking Peter over to insure he was ok.

"I'm fine," he said swatting her hands away. "The subway took forever. Calm down." His voice sounded more dead than he wanted it to.

May raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Your teacher called and told me about your grades and the fact that you skipped half of school. Peter what's going on. I thought you were getting better. I need-"

"Maybe I don't want to get better!" Peter yelled, letting all of his emotions spill out. The most prominent was rage. "You want me to get better and Tony wants me to get better. No one asked me what I want. I just want to die. I don't want to go to fucking therapist and I don't want to do this anymore!" 

Peter ran to his room before May could respond. Why did he always do this? Why did he yell at her, she was only trying to help.

*Because your worthless and you deserve to die*

'She was only trying to help'

Peter began to sob. Why did he always do this? Everything he built up always came crashing down. He was tired. He was just so tired. His grades were horrible. His friends didn't trust him. Mr. Stark didn't want him. May didn't want him. And Ben was dead. He had nobody left. Why was he still here. He should have died.

He wanted to cry and scream and cut until he felt empty again. He felt too full. He didn't deserve to be full. He didn't-

"Peter, can you come out here please." May said while knocking on his door.

He had to pull himself together. He was supposed to be better. He had to show May he was better. He dried his tears and did his best to stop shaking, and made his way out to the living room.

Peter wished he would have stayed in his room when he saw May. She had her head in her hands, and looked as if she were crying. Why did he always do this to people? Why was he such a burden?

When May heard Peter approaching she quickly dried her tears. "Peter, I don't think this is working. Everyone is worried about you. You lost so much weight. You have bags under your eyes. I think you need serious help Peter."

Peter tried to compute what she had said. He needed help. He didn't deserve help. Why would he want to burden anyone else with his-

"Peter, you keep spacing out. Are you listening?"

He responded with a nod.

"Peter, I don't think I'm qualified to help you. I think it would be best to put you in a treatment center. Dr. Harris recommended me one that isn't too far. She says you could be in and out in a month" May said hopefully. 

"No." Peter said shakily. "I'm fine, I'm better. I don't need help."

May sighed. "Peter it would be best to get you help now. So if you aren't on board for the treatment facility, Tony and I have made arrangements for you to stay with him."

"No, I don't want to." The thought of him staying in the compound with the Avengers while he was being 'treated' was horrid.

"Tony has assured me he has top notch Doctors and Therapists there. I think this would be best for you." May added with a wavering voice. "I almost lost you Peter, I can't go through that again."

Seeing May like that was heartbreaking. Peter realized, even if he didn't want to, he had to at least act like he was better. For May.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I kinda rewrote everything so, there's that

Peter wasn't aware of just how different things at the Compound would be. Somehow Tony had convinced his school to allow him to continue his classes there. Peter had brought his work and textbooks, and would follow along with the curriculum from there. Tony had also gotten him makeup tests for the ones he failed. Which was a miracle in itself. 

Peter wasn't allowed to train or do any real superhero work until he was at a 'healthy weight'. Peter, of course, thought that was bullshit. Though he wasn't technically a member of the team, he loved going out to help them. But arguing had gotten him nowhere with his stubborn mentor. Peter was given free reign to most of the compound. Except for the business floors, training rooms, labs, and obviously the Avengers rooms and offices. All of the doors used fingerprints anyways, so it wasn't like Peter could go in them in the first place. The Avengers filtered in and out on missions, but it wasn't rare that they were all here at once. Tony had told all of them about his situation so he was gonna do his best to avoid them.

Peter was given a nice room at the end of the hallway. It was clear all objects that could be used to harm himself were cleared out, the room was basically empty. He had to eat meals with the rest of the team and refusal to do so would get him hooked to a feeding tube. Tony had showed him the medical bay. It was somewhere he didn't want to be. He had to meet with a therapist weekly and doctor every other day. Any signs that he was relapsing would be reported to Tony by FRIDAY, who kept him under constant surveillance. Peter felt more out of control than ever. He hated it.

"We just want you to get better." Tony had added after his lengthy introduction. "Please remember that, okay kiddo"

Peter had muttered that he understood and trudged off to his room. Why was everything so hard now. Why did he always mess things up.

His room had a simple bed with a writing desk and a closet. He knew most standard rooms had a bathroom and he didn't, (probably due to his tendency to throw up everything he ate) which meant he had to go to the main bathroom down the hall. That would suck, he thought of a poor Avenger trying to brush their teeth and seeing him naked. He cringed at the thought, he was hideous. He decided to unpack the few things he had brought. Tony already had an entire wardrobe there for him, so he didn't need much. He put away his school things and shoes before flopping down on the bed. 

He knew that Tony just wanted what was best for him, but he truly didn't deserve it. He knew the Avengers would all be there trying to get him to recover, but he really didn't want to. Of course he wanted to be happy again, but he also wanted to be at his goal weight. Peter was sure he would be happy if he reached his goal. Why were they forcing him to be unhappy?

…

"Peter, dinner is ready. Tony has requested your presence in the kitchen." Friday informed him.

Peter groaned and rolled out of bed. He trudged down the familiar hallways before reaching the kitchen. He was greeted by a lot more faces than he expected.

"The mission wrapped up early." Tony said, answering his unspoken question. 

Peter barely contained a groan, and greeted the rest of the team. When everyone's eyes fell on him they all sported worried looks.

"Peter you look so..." Clint trailed off. Peter felt his heart race. "I mean, you look bad kid."

Peter rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, just a slight setback, nothing drastic."

Everyone looked at him with pity. They hadn't believed a word he said. Fooling spies was as hard as one might think.

Tony placed a small bowl of what looked to be some type of soup in front of him. "You don't have to eat all of it, but please try."

Peter nodded and picked up his spoon. He could feel everyone's eyes on him as he took his first bite. And after he swallowed he could hear everyone let out the breaths they were holding. The rest of the team had huge meals. The soup was just a side. There was steak,bread and baked potatoes. And most of the team had more than one steak piled on their plate. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that was how much he had to eat with his enhanced metabolism, but the thought of that much food was horrifying. 

"Peter?" 

He looked up to see Steve looking at him, looking very worried. Only then he realized he had dropped his spoon, which had caused everyone to look at him.

"Sorry, I just spaced out." He said embarrassed. 

"Right," Tony started, "Well, now that I've got you all here let me explain how the new meal arrangements are going to work. Breakfast and Lunch are pretty much free for all's, so you can eat whatever you want." Peter nodded in understanding." But do not forget that if you decide not to eat FRIDAY will alert me and I will have to respond accordingly." Peter did not like Tony's serious voice. "For dinner one of us will cook. Peter, May informed us that you make amazing pasta, so I added a day for you to cook as well."

Peter couldn't remember the last time he had made pasta. It had been a while since he had eaten anything that fattening. The thought of it made his stomach churn uncomfortably.

"Is that okay with everyone?" Tony asked looking pointedly at Peter. 

"Yeah that's fine." Peter mumbled into his soup.

If anyone said anything else Peter didn't hear it. He had spaced out again. How was he supposed to fool spies that he was getting better.  
A small part of him actually did want to get better. He wanted to pile food on his plate without a care in the world. He wanted to be happy again, he really did. He wanted May and Tony to be proud of him. 'Maybe he could try to eat, for them' He thought while eating another spoonful of soup.

…

When Peter woke up the next day he had a plan. He would eat breakfast like Tony wanted him too, then he would go meet his new doctor. He didn't want to burden Tony anymore than he already was. And everything was going according to plan, that is until he opened the fridge.

There was so much food. Too many choices. How much food did Tony deem an acceptable breakfast? Was he supposed to eat cereal or toast? Did they want him to eat both? He closed the fridge and slumped to the floor. It was food. Humans were made to eat food, Why couldn't he do this? Why couldn't he just be normal? He wrapped his arms around his knees and curled into a ball. And that was how Natasha found him an hour later, curled up in front of the fridge.

"Are you alright Peter?" She asked while nudging him lightly.

Peter jumped up quickly and looked around before landing on Natasha's impassive face. "Yeah, I'm fine." He said as nonchalantly as he could.

"Yeah, when I'm fine I cry in front of the fridge too." Natasha said opening the fridge and pulling out the eggs. 

Peter wiped his tears and opened his mouth to respond with some excuse, but Nat beat him to it. "I know this is difficult for you, everyone does. Please realize we just want to help. Now, sit down. I'm going to make you 2 eggs. Is that okay?"

Her tone of voice suggested that even if he said no he would still be getting those eggs. "Yeah that's fine." Peter muttered.

"So what happened?" She asked while cracking the eggs.

"I got overwhelmed by all the food. There's just too much of it." Peter was surprised he was telling her so much, something about her was so calming.

Nat quirked an eyebrow at him before nodding slowly. "That makes sense, I could look into getting you a personal fridge or a designated cabinet. One that doesn't have so much food in it."

Peter liked that idea. Then he wouldn't have too many choices. "That sounds great." 

Nat put the plate of eggs in front of him before preparing her own food. "So Peter how's school going?"

Peter told her about his failed test and missed questions. Taking small bites between his words. They talked about his teachers and classes, and joked about his classmates. He had never seen Nat so relaxed, being a spy must be draining. It wasn't until she came to take his plate did he realize he had eaten all his food.

"How did.." Peter trailed off, looking at Nat who was smirking at him. 

Nat simply shrugged before sitting down with her own food. "I'm a spy, I know how to make people do things. Now, Tony is waiting for you in the Medical Bay."

Peter sighed and hopped down from his stool. And started walking.

"Oh, and Peter" Nat started.

Peter stopped and turned around.

"I'm proud of you."

Peter blushed bright red and thanked her. He was more full than he had been in weeks and his stomach felt like it was going to burst. But yet he felt okay. Not good, but okay.  



	9. Chapter 9

Peter had been assigned to the same doctor as Steve, Thor and Bucky. She specialized in helping those with enhanced metabolism, such as himself. Her name was Dr. Porter. She was a older woman with dark skin and short curly hair. She was also straight to the point. 

"Peter, you are underweight and severely malnourished. Your enhanced metabolism burns through calories very quickly. Adding in the fact that you are still growing, I'd say you need at least triple the average intake for someone your size."

Peter was very disheartened at that news. That was way too much. But he put on a brave face and smiled and nodded. Because he didn't want to cause these people anymore trouble. And if he wanted to tear his throat open at the thought of eating that much, it didn't matter. They ran more test and scolded him about his eating habits for another half an hour before sending him off with a meal plan and vitamins. He was exhausted by the time he made it back to his room. Dr. Porter had made it very clear that if she saw anymore complications he would be stuck in that hospital room until she saw fit to let him go.

Reading through his meal plan was a rather upsetting task. It showed how many calories he needed to eat for every meal, and examples of meals he should eat with little pictures and ingredients. The worst thing about it was that they looked good. The simple sandwiches looked so delicious to his malnourished brain. He wanted nothing more than to head to the kitchen and make it. But he just couldn't. He didn't deserve to waste Tony's food. Peter crumpled the paper slightly in his hands. He would do anything for his blades right now. Hell, he could make do with sharpened pencil. The ones on his desk looked rather tempting. He set the paper down and reached for the sharpest one in the jar. This would help. It always had before. But before he could even press the pencil in firmly, Friday interrupted him. 

"Peter, you seem distressed. Would you like me to alert Tony?" 

Peter dropped the pencil. "No, don't tell him. I'm fine." 

Friday seemed to ignore his comment. "It is your lunch time Peter, you should go eat." 

Peter looked back at the pencil longingly, then picked up his meal plan and walked to the kitchen. He was about to walk to the fridge, but he noticed a cabinet had a sticky note with his name on it. He opened it to find just enough materials to make a ham sandwich. He would have to thank Natasha later.

Peter shoved the sandwich in his mouth, piece by piece. He tried not to think about how many calories where in each slice of bread. Or how hard bread was to throw up. Or how those disgusting carbs would ruin his figure. Or how-

"Peter, are you alright?" 

Peter looked up to see Steve looking at him worriedly. He was slightly confused until he saw his sandwich smushed between his hands. He put his now mutilated meal back on his plate. "Yeah, I'm okay."

Steve looked him once over before going to the fridge. "You probably should finish that." Peter looked down at his destroyed meal then back at Steve. The older man looked at the excuse of a meal. "Or I can make you something that's not crumpled."

Peter shook his head quickly. He didn't want to waste more food than he already had. "Its fine, I'm already full."

Steve looked at him again. His look was more calculating than the look he sported while walking in. His eyes seemed to look straight through Peter, and his excuses. "Look kid, I've been connected to that feeding tube after bad missions. And let me tell you, it wasn't fun. Now, sit back down. You need to be eating way more than this, so we need to work your way up. Do you want a ham or turkey sandwich?"

Peter blanched at his no nonsense tone. He was using his captain voice and Peter had no choice but to comply. "I'll take ham."


End file.
